Give Your Soul to the Night
by Annie Newton
Summary: Charley offers himself in place of Amy. Jerry accepts, and vows to win over the heart and soul of the first human who has intrigued him in centuries. AU of the original 1985 Fright Night.
1. Chapter 1

"YOU FILTHY SONOFA _BITCH_!"

Charley hadn't even thought about whether or not trying to punch Jerry was a bad idea. His anger-fuelled mind never even gave him a chance to contemplate the idea. One moment his eyes flickered between Amy – comatose and bleary eyed – and the vampire – sensual but seething – and the very next his fist was flying of its own accord, the trajectory aimed straight at the back of Dandrige's skull.

And just as quickly, just as effortlessly, the vampire caught his fist mid-flight.

Jerry turned his gaze upon the teen, his eyes glittering darkly under the club lights. "You shouldn't lose your temper, Charley," he chided gleefully. He squeezed Charley's fist and Charley crumpled to the floor. "It isn't polite."

Desperation crept into Charley's voice, the blind panic warring with the pain radiating from his hand and up his arm. "You can't kill me here!"

"I don't want to kill you, Charley," Jerry said, laughing quietly.

"TAKE ME!"

The words fell from his mouth, thick and fast. They hung in the air, freezing the three of them in place. All around them, bodies swayed in motion to the pounding music, oblivious to the danger in their midst. Charley ignored them; his attention was focused solely upon the immovable vampire before him, who gazed steadily back at Charley with such an intensiveness that it sent a chill crawling up the teenager's spine.

"Take me! Let Amy go and take me instead!" Charley swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat, making his voice sound strained. "Please."

"You wish to take her place?"

Charley nodded, seeing a red ember flickering to life within Jerry's eyes. "Yes! Do whatever you want with me but please, let her go! Please, please don't hurt her. Please."

Jerry appeared to consider Charley's words, turning the offer over in his mind. After a moment, and without preamble, he released Amy's wrist, simultaneously dropping the hold he had on her mind. Released from his thrall, Amy staggered a step, her arms coming up to cradle her throbbing head.

Looking down upon Charley's kneeling form, Jerry's eyes burned a fiery iridescent color. "I accept," he said, and then roughly pulled Charley to his feet.

"Charley…?"

Reluctantly, Charley met Amy's gaze. She looked between the two men, confusion growing into palpable fear as she registered the vampire standing so near to her. _She must not remember the last few minutes_ , Charley realized. Jerry's control had ensured that. He envied her.

"Amy," Charley began, "go home. It's okay. You're safe now."

Amy's face pinched into an expression of uncertainty. "I don't understand. Charley, what's happening?"

"It's okay, Amy. I…" Charley glanced nervously at Jerry, seeing that he held all of the vampire's interest. And why not? He was tonight's T-bone steak; Amy was leftovers. "I made a deal."

"What? Charley, you're scaring me."

Charley's heart sank. _Oh Amy..._ "It's okay. It's all okay now. I made you a promise, and I'm keeping it. I'll go with him. You can go home. Please go home, Amy." Charley licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry and scratching. "I love you, Amy."

"Charley?" Horror drew upon Amy's face as Charley's words slowly began to reach her tired, sluggish mind. "Charley! Charley, no!"

"It's the only way, Amy."

"No, Charley! It's not the only way, it can't be!"

They were beginning to attract an audience, as several of the nearby dancers had finally noticed the three static figures standing at the heart of the Club Radio. Seeing this, his own impatience mounting with every tear-filled utterance spoken by the two teens, Jerry, still gripping Charley's wrist, tugged the boy in the direction of the exit.

"Stop, Charley!" Amy grabbed at Charley, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Charley, stop! No!"

"It's okay." With his free hand, Charley reached for his girlfriend, entwining his fingers with hers. "I love you, Amy." He choked as a sob caught in his throat. "Always remember that."

Amy cried as Charley let go of her, her wordless scream piercing through the thunderous music above. She tripped and fell to her knees, her arm still outstretched. Unsure if she were hurt, those around Amy knelt to help her up.

"No!" She batted at them, pushing them all aside as she clambered to her feet. "Stop them!" she yelled, pointing in the direction that Dandrige had taken Charley. "STOP THEM!"

But no one was there. The vampire had merged with the shadows, and Charley was no where to be found.


	2. Chapter 2

The Jeep was idling as they emerged from the club, the lights from a building further down the street casting a green glow across the wet pavement. Billy Cole was in the driver's seat, and if the creepy man-servant was at all surprised to see Charley by his master's side instead of the more womanly form of Amy Peterson, he hid it well.

"Edward?"

Billy shook his head.

"Evil?" Charley looked at the vampire, anger drawing his brows together. "What have you done with him?"

"I gave him life, Charley." Jerry opened the vehicle's back door, gestured for Charley to get in. "It was your Peter Vincent who took it away."

 _The scream…_ Ed's scream, his cry for help, it _had_ been real. Charley had suspected as much, considering the events of the past hour. But it was the act of truly knowing of his best friend's death that flooded him with grief. It washed over him in waves, rolling in the pit of his stomach. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him, and Charley had just enough time to turn his back before he was doubling over, his vomit splattering the sidewalk.

Charley heaved until there was nothing left to throw up. By the time he was finished, tears ran down his face. He wiped at the wetness with the end of his sleeve, furious with himself. Humiliation began to burn in his cheeks, embarrassment at showing weakness in front of the enemy. Sickness may have been an understandable reaction under the circumstances, but to Charley it made no matter. He would be dead by morning, and he did not want to be thought a coward on this his final night among the living.

Gathering his dignity, Charley took the time to straighten his shirt before turning to face Dandrige and his human lackey. Charley half expected to see looks of contempt fixed upon their features. He was surprised, however, to catch a glimpse of sympathy in the vampire's eyes.

"Come, Charley," Jerry said, holding out his hand.

Charley hesitated, gazing at that open palm. The skin looked so ordinary; so human. It suddenly struck him just how utterly stupid and pathetic his crusade against the vampire had been. Jerry Dandrige was a predator, a wolf in sheep's clothing. He'd been an idiot to think that he, a small town high school student could put an end to a centuries old master-vampire. Ed had already paid for Charley's mistake with his life. Charley took a small amount of comfort in knowing that Amy wouldn't have to.

"Charley."

"Yeah." Charley glanced at the club door one final time. Inside, the youth of Corvalis danced and partied the night away, each one of them completely ignorant of their own feeble mortality. Amy was somewhere among them, and though her childish innocence had been destroyed by this experience, she was now and forever safe. And to Charley, that was all that mattered.

Charley climbed into Cherokee's back seat, ignoring Jerry's outstretched hand. He buckled the safety belt and settled himself into the cushions, aware of Billy's watchful eyes observing him in the rearview mirror. Charley met those eyes, staring boldly into their brown depths, trying not to betray his paralyzing fear. Unperturbed, Billy continued to study him, breaking the spell only when Dandrige sat down beside him in the front seat.

With a nod from his master, Billy put the Jeep in gear, pulling away from the curb to blend into the late night traffic. Charley did not look back. His face pointed forward, his eyes following the road that would take them to ninety-nine Oak, following the road that would lead them to Hell.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

This probably should have been included at the end of the first chapter.

I have the pleasure of owning the movie's novelization. The book is 31 years old and extremely hard to find these days. While I prefer the movie to the book, the book provides extra insight into the characters and their universe. There are, however, subtle differences that become apparent. For example, in the book, Jerry Dandrige's address is 99 King, not Oak. In the book the setting is Rancho Corvallis, Iowa, while in the movie it's just Corvalis. Simple things like that.

I will be pulling information and locations from the book as needed, but if that information is directly contradicted by the movie, I will always default to what we see and hear in the movie in order to avoid unnecessary confusion.

Some gaps, such as vampire society and hierarchy will be filled by my imagination, and some ideas will be taken from Fright Night Part II (1988). Not a lot, but some. I don't like Regine, so we won't be seeing her or any of her cohorts.

Oh, and I'm aware that the Jeep does not have a back door in the film. I took some liberty.


	3. Chapter 3

Herbert McHoolihee threw things at random into a battered leather suitcase. The apartment was a disaster area, most of the damage having been done by Herb himself in his blind terror. Shirts, socks, pants and underwear were all high on his list of priorities, but somehow memorabilia kept making its way in and out of the suitcase as well. Desk-sized photo frames, housing shots of himself with everyone from Christopher Lee to Ingrid Pitt, his shattered cigarette-case mirror, a stiletto that shot out a ten-inch aluminum cross and even framed movie posters had each taken their respective turns at being stuffed into the already bulging bag. Herb had begun to reconsider his needs when his life-sized portrait of Bela Lugosi, in full Count Dracula regalia, had slipped out of his fingers, spraying shards of glass all over the floor.

Bela had been a good friend. The painting had been a gift, bequeathed from the greatest vampire to the greatest vampire killer. If only the legendary vampire could see him now. Not even an hour ago, a lifetime of fantasy had coalesced into nightmarish reality in this very room, and he had been found unworthy of it. He knew it.

Evil Ed had known it too.

Herb shuddered. The body was still there, lying where it had fallen. Its death had not been quick, oh no. For several endless minutes, the thing that had once been Edward Thompson had writhed on the floor, shrieking and hissing. Spittle had flown from its mouth as it had screamed obscenities at him, vowing a swift and violent retribution by its master. The burn on its forehead had sizzled and smoked, filling the air with a rancid odor that smelled of foulness and dead things.

Gradually, mercifully, the thing had begun to quiet. Muscles stiffening and bones creaking, its limbs had locked into place as rigor mortis set in. The blackened skin from its holy brand started to fade, until it had vanished completely. And then at long last, it was still.

He didn't know what was to become of it, nor did he care. _I gotta get out of here, I gotta get out of here_. It was the mantra of a man in mortal terror. A psalm of self-preservation. A communion with cowardice. _I gotta get out of here._ It was the only thought in his head.

When the knocking at the door began, Herb let out a little screech. He dropped what he'd been clutching and fumbled at his neck for the crucifix that hung there by a golden chain.

"Mr. Vincent! Mr. Vincent, please! Open the door!"

"Who is it?" he trilled, his words thin and quavering. He thought he recognized the voice, but it was hard to tell; he'd never heard such panic.

"It's Amy! Amy Peterson! Please open the door!"

Tentatively, Herb edged toward the door. He put his hand on the knob. "What do you want?"

"He has Charley, Mr. Vincent!" The voice from the hall began to sob, and the pain in it stabbed Herb in his heart. "Please… Let me in, Mr. Vincent!"

Herb sighed. _I'm being a fool._ He cracked the door, keeping the dead bolt anchored as he peeked out through the opening. Amy gazed back at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She was in total disarray, her hair untidy and her mascara running down her frightened face.

"Are you one of them?"

Amy sniffled. "What?"

"Here," Herb produced a cross from the inner pocket of his jacket, holding it out towards Amy. "Grab this."

Reaching out, Amy slowly entwined her fingers around the cross, squeezing the wood tightly against her palm. Herb waited with baited breath, watching the young woman closely for any indication of fear or discomfort brought on from grasping the holy relic. When it became apparent that nothing would happen, Amy let go of the cross.

"Come on, Mr. Vincent!"

Herb unlatched the deadbolt. Not waiting on Herb to invite her in, Amy pushed her way through the entryway, hurrying on into the apartment. Herb slammed the door closed behind her, throwing the locks back into place.

"Oh, Mr. Vincent! It was terrible! He chased us! He was everywhere! He trapped us in a nightclub! The Club Radio! He had me but Charley… Charley offered to take my place! He traded himself for me and he – AAHHHH!"

Amy's words cut off in a horrific scream as her gaze landed on Evil's body, frozen on the floor. She backpedaled, tripping over a fallen lamp and landing soundly on her behind. Amy scrambled away, crawling until her back hit the wall.

"It's dead," Herb called from beside his bedroom dresser. He selected two additional shirts from the chaotic mess within the drawer. "At least, I think so."

"It?" Tearing her eyes off of the body, Amy looked up, watching as the legendary vampire killer continued to pack his travel case. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving."

"But you can't!"

"Can't what?"

Amy forced herself to her feet, bracing against the wall for balance. "He has Charley, Mr. Vincent!"

"So call the police." Herb struggled to close the suitcase, cursing as the zipper caught on a pair of socks. "Let them deal with Dandrige."

"But they won't believe us! Charley already tried!"

Herb gave up on the zipper and hauled the overstuffed bag from the bed. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed an old pair of pajama bottoms from the top of the duvet, tossing it over his shoulder. "That's not my problem, young lady."

"But it is!" Amy stepped around Ed's corpse, being careful not to look at it. "You know what he is! You know how to stop him!"

"No, I don't."

"You have to!" Amy was crying again, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "You're Peter Vincent, the Great Vampire Killer!"

"THAT IS A CHARACTER IN A MOVIE!"

Amy flinched at the harshness of his words, hiding her sob with trembling hands.

"I'm sorry," Herb said, softening his tone as Amy fought to control herself. "I really am."

Amy stared across the room at her dead friend, her face going slack as a strange calm blanketed her mind. "Charley worships you, Mr. Vincent," she said. She wiped at her eyes. "You're his hero. Maybe you are just a movie character. But, are you really going to just let him die?"

Herb stood gaping at Amy. He was conflicted, being torn between his desire to help and his overriding sense of fear. Helplessly, he looked between the terrified girl before him and the malformed body crumpled in the corner of the room. _I can't do it,_ he thought, and the realization made him sick. He hated himself, the cowardice he embodied. He was powerless before it, and was powerless to stop it.

"I'm sorry," Herb's whisper was barely audible. "But I can't help. I just can't."

Slowly, Amy nodded her head. She dried the last of the dampness from her face with the sleeve of her blouse. A beautiful ornate cross hung on the wall by the door. Amy lifted it from its mounting. She turned to look at the man she had once known as Peter Vincent, seeing only an old and scared man unwilling to meet her eyes.

"Then I'll just have to do it myself," she said.

The door banged shut behind Amy as she left the ransacked apartment. Inside, Herbert McHoolihee was drowning in his grief, and the great Peter Vincent could do nothing to save him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I'm sorry if the ending to this chapter seems rushed or sloppy. This was a "filler" chapter I wanted to get this done and posted so that I could begin the on the next one, where this story will begin diverging from the film.

I also wanted it to be clear to the reader that Evil Ed was dead. He's not my favorite character, to be honest, and really, his character wouldn't have served a purpose in this story anyhow.


	4. Chapter 4

Charley peered into the darkness of his bedroom, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. He could see the edge of his bed, the covers rumpled and unmade. The safety they provided seemed so close yet so very _far_ away. It would be a false security, of course. The vampire could get to Charley over in his own house just as easily as where he now stood.

Charley was in ninety-nine Oak's master bedroom located on the mansion's second floor. It was the bedroom out of which he had heard that horrifying scream originate, the bedroom in which he had witnessed the prostitute being bitten.

It was Jerry Dandrige's bedroom. It was also, evidently, Jerry Dandrige's kill room.

He had been escorted up to this room and then left alone within its ornate confines well over an hour ago. Charley had expected Dandrige to join him in rather short order, to consummate their deal and therefore put an end to what was certainly a bothersome chapter in the vampire's unnaturally long and undead life. As of yet however, there had been no such visitation. The minutes continued to tick by on the old and majestic grandfather clock standing along the opposite wall; and still there was no sign of Jerry.

Truth be told, Charley was starting to get a bit irritated. Exactly how much longer was the vampire going to make him wait? He began to pace the length of the room, trying to work some of the tension from of his muscles. _Maybe the bastard needs to work up an appetite first,_ he thought bitterly. Though it was probably more likely that the vampire wanted to make him to sit and stew in his own nervousness for a while, like some new form of cruel and unusual punishment. _A little torture before your dinner, Mr. Dandrige?_

Sighing, Charley turned and gazed at the door. Somewhere beyond that heavy wooden frame was evil incarnate, with the ultra-modern version of Renfield by his side. Where in the hell were they?

Slowly, Charley made his way to the door, putting his ear to the smooth surface. He quieted his breathing, straining to hear beyond the door and out into the hallway. But he couldn't hear a thing; the house was totally and utterly still.

Mystified, Charley looked at the handle, wondering if it were locked. He placed his hand upon knob, turned it very carefully.

 _Click._

Charley froze, his eyes going wide. He held his breath, afraid that small metallic sound would echo throughout the house and bring the vampire down upon him in anger. He stood still, his heart racing as he waited for any sign that would tell him that he'd been heard. Finally, after several tense minutes, Charley allowed himself to relax. Exhaling the air he'd held in his lungs, he eased open the door.

Immediately outside of Jerry's bedroom, the hallway was dark. Once Charley's eyes had adjusted to the dimmer lighting, he stepped across the threshold, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. The house felt big and oppressive to his fear-heightened senses, empty, vacant of all living things.

Except for him.

Could they have left him alone? Charley frowned, quickly dismissing the idea. No, that didn't make any sense. Dandrige would never allow him such an easy escape. The vampire and his servant were here in the house. Somewhere.

A faint light shown from the downstairs, the illumination slicing through the staircase railings. Charley could just barely see beyond those railings to his left, noting that the glow was coming from a room off the first floor foyer.

Curiosity drove him forward and soon Charley was sneaking his way down the central staircase. As he neared the bottom, voices drifted out to meet him. The voices were hushed, soft in the way one would imagine two people discussing matters of grave importance would speak. Charley could make out only a few of the words:

"… You'll…vulnerable…need sanctuary…"

"…resources…low…"

"…New Cachice…offer some protection…"

 _Cachice?_ The word somehow sounded familiar, ringing in the corners of his memory. Charley concentrated, attempting to overhear more of the conversation. The voices belonged to Dandrige and Billy Cole, that was for sure, but they were just too low and just too far away to make sense of. As much as he hated it, he was going to have to get closer.

Charley allowed himself only a moment to gather his courage before he set out, cautiously tip-toeing across the vast openness of the home's entryway. With each and every step he was afraid that the old floor would groan under his weight, announcing his presence loud and clear to the two conspirators.

Finally, he reached the doorframe. Charley put his back to the wall, flattening out against it in thankful relief. Within the parlor, he could hear paper being rustled, could hear the fire crackling in the hearth.

"This is very risky, Jerry."

"Yes. But it appears we have little choice."

"We could be there by late tomorrow night. Provided we're on the morning train."

"Very well. Pack only the essentials. We'll purchase whatever else we need there."

There was a pause in the talking. Sliding to his right, Charley inched even closer to the door's edge. Whatever the vampire and his lackey were saying, Charley didn't want to miss a single word of it.

"You're sure about this." That was Billy Cole. It was a statement, not a question. "He's the one."

"He is," Dandrige said. "Call her people. Set it up. You want to come on over here, Charley?"

Charley's heart leapt into his throat. Ice flooded his veins and a cold sweat prickled his skin. His mind misfired, refusing to process the monkey brain's fight or flight response. _How the_ _ **fuck**_ _did he know I was here!_

"I can smell you, Charley, and I can hear your heartbeat. I can track you anywhere in this house."

 _Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckityfuck!_ Charley briefly considered running back the way he'd come, racing up the stairs and slamming closed the bedroom door, but really, what the hell was the point? He'd been discovered, hiding wouldn't change that fact. Charley slumped, defeat worming its way into his soul. There was nothing to do but show himself. _Fuck._

Charley's feet felt like they were weighted down by lead as he rounded the corner into the parlor, exposing himself to the vampire and his servant. Both men stood around a massive table, a giant map spread out before them. From a distance, Charley could just make out the form of the continental United States, with loops and scribbles of varying colors and sizes drawn across it. A large portion of the northeast quadrant of the country was shaded a deep, dark red. The coloring seemed to drip over the map, running like blood.

Billy Cole was looking at him again, a strange and guarded respect gleaming in his dark eyes. Dandrige's back was turned, the vampire leaning over the map on the table, appearing to study its contents with grave consideration. Charley glanced between the two of them, completely unsure of what to do.

"Billy will escort you over to your house, Charley. You have fifteen minutes to pack one bag."

"Pack?" Charley eyed Billy suspiciously as the servant drew near. "Why? What for?"

Dandrige faced him, folding his arms over his chest. "It's come to my attention that this town is no longer safe for me. Too many people know of, or suspect my true nature. You, your friends, and Peter Vincent have all made sure of that."

Charley felt a bit of pride at the level of irritation within the vampire's words. Dandrige was perturbed, annoyed at having his oh so carefully laid plans ruined by a bunch of misfits. Charley smirked in spite of himself. _And I would've gotten away with it too if it hadn't been for you meddling kids!_

Dandrige watched him, displeasure written across his features. "The result," he continued, "is that I'm now forced to find a suitable alternative which, considering that we will sell this house for a loss – as restoring it is clearly out of the question – is a problem. My assets are dangerously low. In short, I have no money."

"How awful for you."

Dandrige chuckled, unexpected amusement dancing in his eyes. "Your sympathy is most heart-warming, Charley. But as luck would have it, I have a rather old…acquaintance in the New England area. I believe she may be willing to lend me a helping hand."

New England, the northeastern part of the country, the section of the map which was colored a rich blood-red. A picture was starting to form in Charley's mind, one that filled him with mortal dread.

"I see. And what does this have to do with me?"

"Why, because you're coming with me, Charley. With us," Dandrige said, nodding his head at Billy.

"The hell I am!" Charley snarled, fixing the vampire with a glare filled with raging hatred. His fists clenched at his sides and he unconsciously took a step backwards, away from Dandrige. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

In the space of an instant, Dandrige's expression turned frigid. He met Charley's angry gaze, the core of his pupils burning with a faint orange flame. "Oh Charley, you do remember our agreement, don't you? I would leave poor, chaste, virginal Amy alone, and in return, I could do whatever I wanted with you. Whatever I wanted _to_ you. I would hate to think that you've already forgotten your promise."

Like a bucket of ice water, the vampire's words doused the heat boiling within Charley's veins. Amy's name acted as an elixir to his hot temper, cooling it so that he could begin to think clearly and rationally again. _Amy…_

"Of course, if you've changed you mind-"

"No!" Panic filled Charley's heart, fear that in his carelessness he had just doomed his love to damnation. "No! I remember, I haven't changed my mind, I promise!"

A sly smile curved at the vampire's lips. "You sure?"

Charley looked into Dandrige's knowing gaze. The vampire radiated smugness, supremely confident in his total and utter control of the situation. Charley was trapped and completely at Dandrige's mercy. There was no way out, no other bargain to be made, not if he wanted to save Amy's life.

Charley took a long deep breath, holding it within his lungs for several seconds before slowly letting it out through his nostrils. The oxygen did wonders to calm his nerves.

"Yes," Charley said, determination powering his voice. "I'm sure."

"Good. Now, as you only have ten minutes left to pack, I suggest you hurry. We have a train to catch." Dandrige turned his attention back to the map, putting an end to the conversation.

Charley followed Billy as the man-servant led the way to the front door. In the foyer, Charley paused. "Where are we going? I believe I have a right to know."

It was several moments before the vampire answered. "Massachusetts. Northern Massachusetts, to be exact, the seat of power for Countess Elizabeth Bathory, of Hungary."

It was the indifferent tone that baffled Charley. The words and the causal voice that they were delivered in just didn't seem to sync within his already frazzled brain. He repeated the name to himself. And again when the words still failed to leave their proper impression.

At last Charley's memory snapped into alignment. The blood drained from his face, and his mouth went stone dry. "Oh… **_Fuck_**."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

This chapter ended up being radically different than what I had originally planned. Amy was going to show up, there was going to be a bit of a scuffle, perhaps a little mind control would've been used too… But alas, this seemed like the better incarnation. I think it turned out alright regardless.

If you don't know who Elizabeth Bathory is, not to worry. Though I encourage you to look her up before my next post (because she is a fascinating historical figure) I will explain all about her in the next chapter. I'm drawing on an idea from the 2013 film Fright Night 2: New Blood. The movie had its faults – several of them – but one thing that they nailed was the casting of Jaime Murray. She did a fantastic job portraying the Blood Countess, and she will be the inspiration for this story's Elizabeth Bathory.

By the way, your humble writer has something very important to share with you… I got to meet the cast of Fright Night! All except Billy Cole was in Indianapolis for a horror convention and I got to shake hands with each and every one of them! They were all wonderfully happy to meet their fans. If you the reader ever have a chance to see them in person, I highly recommend doing so!


	5. Chapter 5

When Charley was twelve, he and Evil snuck into the discount matinee located in the heart of downtown Corvalis. On the weekends, the theater would showcase some of the great B-movie horror films of years past, advertising free snacks and soft drinks to anyone who would come dressed in costume. That Saturday night, armed with a mouthful of cheap Halloween fangs and hoarding a cup of Coke and a bucket of over-buttered popcorn, Charley was introduced to the legendary Hammer film _Countess Dracula_.

The movie made a lasting impression on his pre-adolescent mind. While Ed had gone on about Ingrid Pitt's "knockers" (and yes, they were quite remarkable), Charley had been captivated by the tale of Elizabeth Bathory, The Blood Countess of Hungary. As he would learn, the movie took several liberties when it came to the historical facts of the case, but it provided a starting point for his study of the woman behind the legend.

Elizabeth Bathory, born in the wooded hills of Hungary in the year 1560, would eventually be responsible for killing as many as 650 young peasant girls, most of whom served within her castle. The Countess would beat her servants for any perceived infraction, using a club or a hot iron to bludgeon them until they died of their wounds. An iron maiden was used for the more severe cases of punishment, and Elizabeth was said have reveled in the torture of her victims, laughing mercilessly at their screams of pain-filled agony.

In those days, it wasn't illegal for an aristocrat to murder a few retainers, but the sheer number of Elizabeth's victims brought the ire of the king and in 1611, Elizabeth Bathory was finally brought to trail in a royal court of law. Though Elizabeth was spared execution, she was sentenced to life imprisonment within Cachice Castle. There she lived in solitary confinement until her death in 1614 at the age of fifty-four.

That was the official story. The _unofficial_ story, however, was truly the stuff of nightmares. Rumors ran rife of witchcraft and cannibalism having been practiced by the Countess during her lifetime, and of the existence of a secret bath chamber which ran red with the blood of young virgins. Townsfolk would whisper of a dark enchantress roaming the kingdom, hunting for children to lure back to her castle to be slaughtered like livestock. Even years after the burial of her body within the confines of a secret family vault, the strange disappearances continued.

One word echoed off the lips of the Hungarian people, a word that was dismissed by the royal court and silenced by the church as heresy.

 _Because it's all true._ Elizabeth Bathory was a vampire.

Charley just barely suppressed a shudder. It hadn't even been full week since he'd been studying trigonometry in his bedroom and heard that blood-curdling scream. Not even a week since this whole horror had begun. When he allowed himself to consider how significantly his life had changed in such a short amount of time, Charley felt utterly sick.

Outside of the train's window the landscape continued to sweep by, a constant blur of trees and towns, pastures and fields. They were midway through their journey, and with every additional mile that the train snaked across, Charley got even more anxious. He began to fidget, unconsciously drumming his fingers against the plastic armrest of his seat.

Directly across from him, facing the train's caboose – where Dandrige's coffin lay in storage, the undead fiend sleeping safely within its wooden confines – sat Billy Cole. Of all things the man held a copy of _Dracula_ , its pages looking worn and well-read in the bright afternoon sunlight. At the sound of Charley's tapping, Billy's eyes flickered up from the book, a slight frown creasing his mouth.

Charley flinched under the disapproving gaze. He sat back within the cushioned seat, clasping his hands in his lap, Since leaving the Corvalis station earlier that morning, fewer than a dozen words had been spoken between the teenager and servant. Charley wasn't at all sure he really wanted to have any sort of meaningful conversation with the man, but he was getting desperate. His thoughts were driving him crazy, and he needed a distraction.

Charley cleared his throat. "Is that a first edition?"

Billy looked up from the page he was reading, quirking his brow at Charley's timid tone. "Sorry?"

"The book." Charley motioned to the tome within Billy's hands. "Is it a first edition?"

Billy nodded. "It is."

"I thought so." Charley stared at the yellow cover with open admiration. "Cool. Where'd you get it?"

"It's actually Jerry's. It was a gift from Bram."

"Bram Stoker?" Charley leaned forward, lowering his voice lest he was overheard by the other passengers. "As in, _the_ Bram Stoker? He knew _the_ Bram Stoker!?"

Billy put a scrap of paper between the book's pages to mark his place. "Yeah, we both did. He and Jerry were pretty good friends."

Charley stared dumbfounded, sure he'd misheard the man. "Both of you? But, wait… That would mean that you would be…" Charley trailed off, mentally trying to add up the numbers.

Billy smiled, amusement lighting his face. "I'm quite a bit older than I look."

"How much older, exactly?"

"I've been Jerry's familiar for 113 years."

Charley gaped at the other man, utterly stunned by his revelation. "What? H-how? Are you… Not human?"

"Oh, I'm human. More or less." Billy paused as an elderly couple shuffled passed their seats and continued on down the cabin's center aisle. "There are certain advantages," he continued, "to being in the service of a vampire. That is of course, if the vampire chooses to reward his – or her – familiars. Not all of them do. But Jerry, he appreciates loyalty."

Charley's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Wait, you don't eat bugs, do you?" he asked, referring to the literary madman known as Renfield, Count Dracula's reluctant and rather insane servant.

Billy chuckled at Charley's question. "I had chocolate-covered ants once, spent the rest of the night with my head in the toilet. Jerry thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. He likes to buy them as a joke now, usually around Halloween."

"So… What? You just don't age?"

"No I age, just more slowly. Believe it or not, I was younger than you when Jerry first approached me. I was an orphan living on the streets. He took me in, gave me a home. Gave me a job."

Charley's face abruptly changed. "Yeah, it's some 'job' you have."

Billy eyed Charley sharply. The hatred displayed on the teen's soft face was virtually palatable. "Is there something on your mind, kid?"

"How do you do it?" Charley asked. "How can you serve him?"

"Jerry has been very good to me," said Billy with a small lift of his shoulders. "I really don't think of it in the context of me 'serving' him. Honestly, I consider him more of a friend."

"But he's a vampire!" Charley cried, aghast at Billy's cavalier attitude. "He kills people!"

"Hey, keep your voice down, kid."

"Don't call me that!" Charley snapped, a sudden rush of anger causing him to rise to his feet. "I'm not a kid!"

"Oh, but you are. You're an infant, a new-born whose just discovered that the world is a much bigger and nastier place than the inside of his mother's womb. You're lost and alone, and you're scared. And I'll tell you what, kid; you should be.

"Sit down, Charley," Billy said, motioning to the seat that Charley had just vacated. "Sit down. Now."

Charley scowled, his fists balling tightly at his sides. He briefly considered remaining standing out of pure spite, but thought that might be a little too petulant of him. He settled for glaring at Billy for several seconds more, allowing his eyes to communicate his great displeasure before finally doing what the familiar had asked.

"Alright, you listen to this, kid, and listen well. Yes, Jerry kills people. But he kills them in order to feed, to survive. That's all. He takes no pleasure in it."

"He sure seemed like he was enjoying himself that one night," commented Charley, alluding to the prostitute he'd seen bitten through the vampire's open window.

"Don't confuse the thrill of the hunt with taking pleasure in the kill, Charley," Billy said, a sigh permeating his words. "I'm not a vampire, so I've never tasted human blood. I don't know what it feels like for them to drink it. I guess many do find it enjoyable. I know Jerry does. He's a predator, and he cannot deny his instincts. But Jerry doesn't take any pleasure in killing. He hasn't for a very long time. He personally despises it.

"But not all vampires are like Jerry," Bill continued. "There are some truly evil ones out there, ones that indulge in pain. You're going to be meeting one tonight."

Charley's throat went dry and he swallowed quickly, hoping that the familiar wouldn't notice his sudden bout of nerves.

"Jerry should really be the least of your worries," Billy continued. "Consider yourself lucky; you could do a lot worse yourself, believe me."

"Wait, what do you mean by that?" asked Charley, his voice squeaking only a little.

"I mean that soon, you're going to have a choice to make."

 _Oh, for the love of..._ "Will you just cut the bullshit?" Charley gripped at the armrests beside him, feeling frustrated by Billy's elusive and vague words. "Why am I lucky? What choice will I have to make?"

Charley was absolutely positive that he saw a touch of sympathy flash within the man's dark eyes as the familiar gazed upon him. "I'm sorry, kid. I can't answer that."

Charley pursed his lips. "Can't, or won't?"

"Can't. Honestly, it's not really my place."

"Fuck you."

"Hmm." Billy reclined back in his seat, flipping the book open to the previously marked page. "It's going to be a long night, Charley. You should try and get some sleep."

Charley waited for Billy to say more, but the older man only resumed his reading. Charley sniffed, turning to look out the window. The train rumbled on, consuming the distance at a pace too rapid for Charley's terrified mind to comprehend.

A shiver ran up Charley's spine, making the skin on the back of his neck crawl. _What have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Happy Halloween!

This chapter kicked my lily white ass. I wrote it, from start to finish, twice. I just felt like it wasn't capturing the atmosphere that I wanted it to, and I was having the hardest time with Billy's voice, how he speaks. I ended up Frankensteining the two versions of the chapter to make this final one. I hope it flows well enough and doesn't appear to be fragmented in any way. I'm gonna ask a fellow Fright Night Facebook friend to start betaing for me. It always helps to have someone to bounce some ideas off of.


	6. Chapter 6

The train rolled into the Worcester Station at precisely 7:00 p.m., the wheels screeching as the engine slowed the long locomotive to a jarring and lumbering halt. Charley stood, stiff-legged and a bit wobbly in the knees from the many hours of being totally immobile. He fell in behind Billy as the familiar moved up the cabin's center aisle and then exited out through the front of the car, emerging onto the brightly lit platform below.

Five men in black suits were waiting for them near the end of the train, their expressions neutral and guarded. They seemed to elude an aura of danger. It was in the way they held themselves, the way the other passengers gave them a wide and cautious berth as they stood motionless within the crowd. Charley decided that he didn't like them.

As they neared the group, one of the men came forward. He appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties, fit, and had wavy brown hair and sharp blue eyes. He was an inch or two shorter than Billy, but he carried himself as a confident and sure leader. "William, it's wonderful to see you again! Welcome to Massachusetts. I hope your journey was pleasant?"

Billy came to a stop a few paces away from the man. "Well enough, Thomas, considering the circumstances. Thank you. I'm sure Mr. Dandrige is eager to see his host."

"That's good to hear, as I can assure you that Mrs. Bathory is very excited to receive her guest." Thomas' eyes left Billy and drifted to Charley. He smiled; a cold, dead movement absent of any warmth or humanity. "Both of them."

Charley stood frozen within that piercing gaze, like that damned metaphorical deer in those damned bleeping headlights. He shifted nervously, aware that the other men behind Thomas were looking at him in much the same creepy, malevolent way.

Billy stepped between Charley and Thomas, finally breaking the man's eye contact with the uneasy teen. "Then," he said, rather pointedly, "perhaps we shouldn't keep them waiting."

Thomas smiled again. "Of course, quite right. We have a caravan ready to take you and your master to New Cachice. It's a bit of car ride, I'm afraid, but don't worry. We'll get you there in plenty of time. Gentlemen…"

At Thomas's command, his four companions shouldered Dandrige's coffin, hefting it like pallbearers as they made their way to a line of sleek luxury vehicles. Charley watched as the men loaded the coffin into a hearse, taking care to handle the casket containing the vampire with the utmost respect and reverence.

"Charley?" Billy stood by the rear passenger door of a black limousine. Thomas was by his side, staring at Charley with that same knowing look. Charley unconsciously swallowed a mouthful of bile; no, he really didn't like that man.

Charley climbed into the limo, sliding across the leather to allow Billy room to sit down next to him. Once Billy was situated, Thomas shut the door from the outside, sealing the two of them within the spacious cabin.

"Where are we going?" Charley asked, listening as the limousine's large engine turned over and began to purr.

"Hubbardston. It'll take us a couple of hours to get there."

Inwardly, Charley groaned. After an entire day of siting motionless within a moving train, he was now going to be sitting motionless within a moving car. His butt had passed numb many hours ago. Charley suppressed a sigh. _At least the limo's a bit smoother of a ride_ , he thought as the car began to pull forward.

"Is Hubbardston where Elizabeth Bathory lives?" Charley asked, settling himself into the buttery soft seat.

Billy nodded. "Near there. It's close to where New Cachice is. Her estate."

"And are these men…her familiars?"

"Only some of them. Most of Mrs. Bathory's familiars live and work within New Cachice and never actually leave the property."

"Oh. So exactly how many does she have?"

"Last I knew, at least few dozen."

"Why so many?"

Billy looked at him curiously. "I know you're familiar with Elizabeth Bathory's history, Charley. She was born into royalty. A lady like her likes being tended to. Likes to show her power."

 _Power._ If there was one thing Charley had learned about vampires, it was that they loved to display their power. "So the more powerful a vampire is, the more familiars they have?"

"Most of the time. The more formidable a vampire, the more compelling their thrall, generally the more subjugates they can support. And keep."

Charley's upper lip curled into a sneer. "Is that why Dandrige only has you?"

It was an insult, and they both knew it. Billy sighed, but otherwise refused to rise to Charley's bait. "Vampire hierarchy can get…a bit tangled, kid. Trust me when I say that things are not always as they seem."

"Uh-huh, sure." Charley was going to say more, but he felt the limo slowing. He looked around, seeing the other cars in the caravan following suit. "What, are we there yet?"

"We're outside of Worcester now," Billy said, ignoring Charley's obvious sarcasm. Once the vehicle stopped moving, he opened the door.

"Yeah, so?"

Billy stepped out onto the road. "So we're far enough away from prying eyes for Jerry to get out of the coffin."

Charley's stomach did a sudden and rather death-defying flip-flop. The blood drained from his face as a cold panic set in. He turned around, his eyes peering out the limo's rear window. Behind them, Elizabeth Bathory's familiars had exited the hearse and were preparing to open the back hatch.

Billy raised a brow at Charley's pallid expression. "You didn't think that Jerry would want to stay in the coffin for the entire drive, did you?"

It was what Charley had hoped. It was one thing to be in the presence of Billy Cole; the servant was human. But it was completely another to be around Jerry Dandrige, a blood-thirsty killer who could rip Charley's throat out before the vampire had even finished eating his morning mango.

Charley squinted as he looked through the darkly tinted glass. From his position, he could see that the casket had been opened. A subtle shift in the shadows and suddenly there he was, rounding the rear of the hearse, the gray trench coat fluttering against his long stride.

Charley gulped, sitting back in his seat. He could hear Dandrige's steps drawing closer, could hear car doors being slammed as the familiars got back into their vehicles. He took a deep, cleansing breath and tried to focus on _not_ appearing terrified.

"Evening, Jerr."

"Billy. Glad to see that you and Charley didn't kill each other during my sleep today."

"It was touch and go there for a while," Billy said, with absolutely no trace of humor in his voice.

Wrapping the coat tightly around his waist, Dandrige lowered himself into the limo, taking the seat opposite Charley. He offered the teenager a toothy grin. "Evening, Charley."

Charley met Dandrige's gaze, but did not reply. He only sat straighter, squaring his shoulders against the flash of fang from the vampire.

Dandrige turned his attention to Billy as the familiar sat down beside the teen, closing the door to the limo as he did so. "What did Clarke have to say?" he asked once the three of them were alone.

"He says welcome, says Elizabeth is excited to see both you and Charley." Billy hesitated. "But about that, we may have a problem."

"Problem?"

Billy considered his next words carefully. "It may be nothing. It might be Clarke just being a dick, but… The others. Their behavior suggested… Well, something else."

"And what do you think it suggested?"

"They seemed…" Billy cast Charley a sidelong glance. "Rather possessive."

"Really?" The vampire's nose flared as he leaned back into the seat. He glared at the closed partition separating their seats from the driver. "Well, we expected a certain amount of territorialism on Elizabeth's part."

"But this peacocking on the part of her familiars worries me," Billy said.

Dandrige turned to look out the window. "You may be right. It might just be Clarke being himself. But perhaps not. This might be more difficult than we had anticipated."

"Then it'll be even more dangerous."

Dandrige pursed his lips, staring at Billy's reflection within the blackened windows. "Yes," he said in agreement.

"What?" Charley looked between the two men, feeling a bit left out of the loop. "What's going on? What's this about her familiars?"

"Charley," began the vampire, turning to look at the teenager, "I need you to listen very closely to what I'm about to tell you. You've got a lot to learn and we don't have a lot of time."

Charley eyed Dandrige suspiciously. "What do I have to learn about?"

Dandrige smiled, but there was little happiness within it. "Our world, and more importantly, how you will fit into it."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Whew! This took longer than expected, and I do apologize for the delay. I write very, very slowly, with my weekly word-count less than George R.R. Martin's (probably). This is for a number of reasons too boring to get into, but rest assured, I have not lost interest in this story. Actually, the more it grows in my head, the more excited I am!

And on that note, thank you all for following, favoriting, bookmarking, giving kudos to and commenting on this story! I appreciate your interest in it! I'm trying to decide if next chapter we meet Elizabeth, or if we should catch up with Amy first. Hmm…

Note of interest: Worcester Station and the town of Hubbardston are real, but contrary to what Billy says, it would not take a couple of hours to travel between them. More like 30 minutes or less. They look much further away on Google Maps than they are in actuality, I guess. Oh well. Its fiction, right?


End file.
